


I Lost My Life & Then I Found It

by unremarkablegirl



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Minor Character Death, Torture, Whump, its full of sadness and love, we don't care for him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unremarkablegirl/pseuds/unremarkablegirl
Summary: Prompt: The gang finds out Nicky is mortal during a torture session. They’re already covered in blood and brain and other disgusting organic matter that they don’t notice the first cut not healing right away. It’s only when they break Nicky’s wrist and it doesn’t snap back that they realize this is it. He’s not coming back if they kill him again.Excerpt: Nile and Joe were in the midst of running their mouths—complaints about the bloodstains and various other matter stuck to everyone’s clothes—when the clang of bars opening rang through the hallway and they heard multiple sets of footprints coming their way. They fell silent. Almost as one, they all sat up straighter, their spines taking on military postures while they all splayed their legs out in various insouciant positions; always be ready but never show the enemy. As their captors drew closer, one pair of footsteps stood out, the distinct sound of heels against stone sharp compared to the dull thud of heavy combat boots.
Relationships: (past), Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusef & Nicky | Nicolò, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	I Lost My Life & Then I Found It

One, two, three, four, five, they came to within minutes of each other, groaning and bitching while they gathered their faculties and took stock of their own bodies before turning to the others. They were in a dank cell, arms chained to the wall above their heads. Booker, Andy and Nicky were chained along the same wall, directly across from Joe and Nile. Andy was the first to look away from the others while each couple checked over their love. There were no windows and the cell was damp, they were underground. Her eyes skipped over the drain in the middle of the room, instead looking out the bars that made up the fourth wall, looking into the hallway, noticing that there were no guards.

She turned back to the others just as Booker started speaking, starting their customary _we got captured routine_ , “Can’t believe they tranqued us.”

“Fucking savages. What are we? Animals?” That was Joe, eloquent as always. And on they went, complaining about their captors, the cell, the fight—or lack thereof—and devolved into complaining about the cowardice of their captors, anything to take their minds off the fact that they had been taken by surprise. They hadn’t expected this, they weren’t even on a mission. In fact, it had been months since they took a case. It didn’t make sense, they had been careful, flying under the radar, simply enjoying time with their family. It didn’t make sense.

Nile and Joe were in the midst of running their mouths—complaints about the bloodstains and various other matter stuck to everyone’s clothes—when the clang of bars opening rang through the hallway and they heard multiple sets of footprints coming their way. They fell silent. Almost as one, they all sat up straighter, their spines taking on military postures while they all splayed their legs out in various insouciant positions; always be ready but never show the enemy. As their captors drew closer, one pair of footsteps stood out, the distinct sound of heels against stone sharp compared to the dull thud of heavy combat boots. 

Andy raised her brows whilst Nile’s brows furrowed, both wondering who wore stilettos in an underground dungeon. Andy, Nicky, and Nile turned to face the bars, ready for whoever they were facing whilst Joe and Booker, mutinous and disrespectful as always, looked down, uncaring.

The reactions of the others, one, two, three—the clang of chains as Nile jerked, a sharp gasp from Nicky and the strangled yell from Andy—had their heads snapping up. Their eyes locked onto the woman standing in front of the bars and they stared, they stared, they stared. They couldn’t stop staring. Booker’s eyes were hazy and Joe had silent tears sliding down his face. 

“Well, isn’t this a quaint little family reunion.” One, two, three, four, five, each of them jolt at the sound of her voice, her English lilting in the oddest of ways, stress patterns matching that of an ancient dialect, long lost. Nile and Booker, having only ever heard her distorted yells and choked off groans. Nicky, Joe, and Andy because they never thought they’d hear it again. 

There, in front of the bars, in front of their eyes, stood Quynh. Her hand rested daintily on the bars, belying the underlying strength as she stared at them, predator sharp. She smiled at their shock, a vicious curve to lips painted a dark burgundy. 

“What? No hello?”

At that, Andy broke, an ugly choking sound working its way up her throat. Her eyes fell close and she heaved a breath, counting, one, two, three, four, five...six. Her eyes opened, she was locked in the spectre gaze of a love lost, a love drowned, her only love. 

Her voice was pitiful, weak, breaking over the single syllable. “How?”

Quynh stared at her, the smile gone, her face a mask. “Without you.”

It made sense, in a broken, twisted, warped kind of way. It made sense. 

Quynh didn’t wait for a response, instead motioning to the guards to open the cell. They tense, but only Quynh walks in, the bars closing behind her with a resounding clang, locking her in with them. None of them, one, two, three, four, five, were used to being the prey. Yes, they had been hunted and tracked over the decades, but they had always known their enemies were only puppies playing at being wolves. Now? Now they are wolves locked in a cage with a tiger. 

Their eyes are locked onto Quynh, none, not even Joe, daring to speak. A flick of her wrist and Quynh held a dagger in her hand. A sharp thing, the blade well taken care of, the handle wrapped in aged leather. Andy can’t help but let out another desperate little sound, not quite a word, not quite a plea. She recognized that blade. She had gifted it to Quynh well over 600 years ago. The blade glints in the poor light, drawing her eyes to the characters etched into the steel, the characters that expressed her love and blessed the blade with speed, ensuring that it striked true. She never had found that blade, had resigned herself to thinking it lost to time. Knew now that Quynh had hid it in her own secret caches, that she had hid it well. Knew that that level of secrecy and protection signified the importance of the blade to Quynh. Knew that Quynh’s use of it here meant she knew the importance that blade was to Andy. She couldn’t stifle the sob that escaped. 

Quynh didn’t spare her a glance. Somehow, that hurt more. Instead, she moves, viper swift, to kneel in front of Nile, “So, you’re the youngest. That’ll make your pain the most delicious.”

One, two, three, four, they all reacted at once, yanking on their chains, all of them holding their breath, not daring to incite her, to be the reason she slashes. They know, they know that Nile would be fine, physically, but the idea of torture at the hands of a spectre love, an idol, a long lost member of the family? That caused them to ache and rage and cry. 

It is Joe who finds the strength to speak, his silver tongue tripping over itself once, then twice in silent false starts before he gathered his courage, Nicky’s kindness, Booker’s desperation, Andy’s determination and then, he spoke.

“You know I dreamt about you? That we all did? My mind always circled back to memories of when I first took you all to Cairo. Remember? When you were constantly stopped by merchants and artisans wanting to capture your beauty in some way? I know Nicky dreams about the first time we all met. And Andy? Andy dreams about you in colours that no longer exist. 

But, we’ll never know your pain the way Booker and Nile have. They dreamt about you, lost to the waters, trapped and alone. And they’ll never know your pain, the strength of the ocean, the weight of time, the ever constant burn, they’ll never know that the way you do. But, but they know about your love and your patience and your strength, they know about your quick wit and your tenacity. Because we told them. Because we didn’t forget about you. You haunted us, and you never left us, and we never stopped loving you. We looked, we looked, we looked. We looked for so long but we had nothing to go on. Is that what you want to hear? That we failed? We did. We failed you. And now? Now that shall haunt us.”

He fell silent. He stared, desperate, at Quynh’s profile. She had not deigned to turn her gaze on him while he spoke, instead letting her eyes trace over Nile’s face. Sweet, brave, stubborn Nile who stared back, unflinching, but her eyes were kind, soft, open. 

They didn’t know how much time had passed before Quynh’s lips parted, a huff of laughter leaving her, “Eloquent as always, Yusuf. Or is it Joe now?” 

Her hand replaced her eyes, the blade now tracing over Nile’s skin, always a second away from drawing blood. “Isn’t that right? Joe, Nicky, Andy? No longer Yusuf, no longer Nicolo, no longer Andromache. No longer the family I once had. Y’know, I was going to play with the new girl, but I think I’ve changed my mind.” 

She stood, fluid. She could taste their confusion on her tongue as she stared down at this child, at _Nile._

“You may no longer be my family, but it sounds like I’m still yours. That should make this hurt all the more.” Quynh turned, gliding over to Nicky, “Hello dear brother.”

Now, Joe was choking, gasping for air as he came to the realization that he was the reason his beloved would know the pain of falling apart beneath his sister’s blade. Nicky’s eyes locked with Joe’s, his love and his strength palpable before Quynh squats down, effectively blocking him from Joe’s view. But Booker and Andy had a clear view of the way Quynh twirled the knife around in her palm, of the way she pressed it to Nicky’s skin, tracing over the tears in his shirt, before jerking her wrist, viper quick, sinking the blade into his shoulder. One, two, three, four, they all jerked at the groan that escaped him.

They know Nicky, know that he can suffer pain in silence, prefers it actually. They know he’d never let loose a sound for anything beneath a broken bone. 

Nicky knows Quynh. Over 500 years later, he still knows her. Knows her need for vindication, knows the anger that runs deep in her, running deeper now than ever before. She would only grow frustrated with his silence, she would revel in his cries and groans of pain. 

The blade made a sickening slick sound as it was dragged out of the wound. Viper quick, Quynh shoved her fingers into the cut, coating her hand in his blood before withdrawing. On his face, she traced out abstract patterns, swirling and messy and dripping and morbidly beautiful. Her own execration painted in the blood of her brother. 

She worked, methodical, section by section on Nicky’s torso. His blood mixed with that of her recently dead lackeys, staining his shirt beyond repair. It’s only after she lifted his shirt and peeled away the skin of his abdomen, layer by layer, before dropping his shirt again, not interested in seeing it heal, did Joe break, Nicky’s quiet whimpers tearing him apart. He begged and pleaded, asked her to find mercy within herself, asked her to speak to them, offered himself up in turn, offered to let her cut his tongue out, anything, anything, anything. He just wanted her to stop. 

Quynh did not deign to speak, instead turning around, fixing her spectre gaze on him, silent and judging. The weight of her gaze drew his mouth shut, his voice failing him. Her lips turned up, a facsimile of a smile. She lowered her blade, setting it on the stone floor. Joe choked in relief as she stood. He didn’t have a chance to draw in another breath before Quynh lifted her foot and slammed it down over Nicky’s wrist, prone as it was on the floor next to his body. Nicky couldn’t control the scream that escaped him. Quynh stared down at him, limp and gasping for breath, waiting. The others waited as well, all but Booker with a clear view of his wrist. They stared at his wrist, waiting, waiting, waiting. The minutes dragged on, his wrist stayed limp and broken.

The smile had not left Quynh’s face, “Oh, you poor dear.”

With fingers caked in his blood, she tilted Nicky’s face up, up, up leaving him to stare at her. One, two, three, four, no one can see Nicky’s face but Booker could see Quynh’s face. He saw the smirk disappear, saw her eyes roam over Nicky’s face, tracing cheekbones and a bloody pattern before turning, abrupt. He wondered what it was she saw, if it was contempt or love on Nicky’s face. 

The bars opened, she walked through, did not look back, “Splint his wrist, bandage the worst of the bleeding, then leave them.”

And then she was gone but for the fading sound of heels on stone. 

Andy’s choked pleas quiet down as one the lackeys eventually entered the cell with a medkit, dismissing the others at the bars. One, two, three, four, five, they sit silent and alert as this man, this stranger, touches Nicky, newly fragile as he is. Nicky was limp, weak as his wrist got a splint first before the man moved onto the exposed muscle of Nicky’s abdomen and then touching on the worst of his bleeding, including the stab wound on his shoulder. The keys at his waist jangle ever so softly as he moves, a siren song they cannot answer without risk of hurting Nicky. 

Nicky, courageous, optimistic, patient Nicky had no such compunctions. As the man closed the lid to the kit, Nicky’s newly splinted hand came up, bracing against the back of the man’s neck as he drove his forehead into his nose, remarkably fast for a man in unknown amounts of pain. The pain distracted the lackey as he yelled and fell back, within perfect range for Nicky to kick him over to Nile. 

She didn’t hesitate before clamping her thighs around his neck and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing, until he no longer drew breath. One, two, three, four, five, no one dared to speak as she dragged the man’s body up until she could reach the keys at his waist with her uncuffed hand. They stayed silent as she unchained them all.

Andy, the last to be uncuffed, took the keys from Nile, turning her back on both couples, under the guise of giving them time as she fiddled with the door, trying out the different keys until the door unlocked with a resounding click. 

She turned, found them all huddled together, huddled around Nicky. She swallowed, figured they had time, the stone walls muffling the sounds they had let loose. Nile was running her fingers over Nicky’s bandaged abdomen while Booker had a death grip on Nicky’s ankle while Joe used wipes from the kit to wipe the blood from Nicky’s face, his touch gentle and adoring as he took in his lover’s face. Andy waited until Joe was done before she leaned in and rested her forehead against Nicky’s. She swallowed and then moved away, letting Nile take her place, then Booker, then finally Joe. He stole a kiss from Nicky before leaning back and sending a questioning glance to Andy.

She returns the glance, the question in her eyes so much more clearer, so much more desperate yet resigned. She’d do anything they decided.

It’s Nile that spoke, “No man left behind.”

Nile’s gaze was steely when Andy finally brought herself to look her in the eye. Booker was already on his feet, stripping the guard of his gun, handing a knife to Joe. They both turned to Andy who nodded at Nile to help Nicky up. 

As the others readied themselves, Andy took the blade that had been left on the floor, reverent as she traced over the characters and adjusted the weight in her palm. She nodded to herself before getting up.

One, two, three, four, five, they all left the cell with Nicky at the centre. When they left this place, though, they would be six.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello, I experimented a bit with my writing style so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> (also I'm on [tumblr](https://unremarkablegirl.tumblr.com))


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